


did you dream about me?

by gazing



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gay Feelings, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Smut, Tenderness, VILLANEVE KISSED
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23900116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gazing/pseuds/gazing
Summary: “I‘ve been dreaming about you since before we met.”
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 32
Kudos: 421





	did you dream about me?

**Author's Note:**

> VILLANEVE KISSED!!!!!
> 
> I’ve rewatched that scene. an embarrassing number of times 
> 
> anyway I’ve never written a villaneve fic before and I have a lot of feelings about them (Especially eve) and I thought this would be the perfect time to write a fic. it’s also my first time writing smut, so I hope it isn’t too bad :) 
> 
> thank you for reading and enjoy !!

_ I've been dreaming about you since before we met. _

Eve had thought that just before she kissed Villanelle.

She wishes it wasn't true, but it is. In her dreams, there had always been the sting of a knife against her throat. After she met Villanelle, the slender hand gripping the hilt of the knife had come into focus. The person against her had started to smell like expensive perfume and dried blood.  _ Villanelle  _ became the thrill she dreamt of, rather than a shadow. Eve feels like she's been waiting for her for a very long time.

Tonight, Eve is fully clothed as she lies on the bedsheets. Villanelle's recording is clutched in her left hand, so hard that are knuckles have gone white. She's not dreaming, not quite yet.

What's worse, to sleep or to stay awake? With her eyes wide open in the dark, Eve's mind wanders. Her heart replays the moment she pressed her lips against Villanelle's. She tries desperately to come to the surface and remember the grief that Villanelle has brought her, but she only feels warmth. The memory of the kiss is sticky and sweet. It feels like fresh blood on her hands, smudged on her face.

It's  _ everywhere _ .

Perhaps, Eve thinks, it would be mercy to sleep. But if she sleeps, she knows she'll imagine kissing Villanelle for longer, harder, properly. Isn't that dangerous? Lately, in her dreams, the knife is in her  _ own  _ hand. And the release of killing feels like liberation. 

_ Admit it, Eve.  _ Eve doesn't have to play the recording to hear the voice - it comes to her easily, because she's already heard it a thousand times, and the words are etched into her. They're carved into her insides. _ You wish I was here. _

"Do you miss me?" A low, amused voice drawls in her ear. 

Eve's heart jumps - is it a leap of fear, or hope?   


(It's hope, as always. She stopped being scared of Villanelle a long time ago).

When she turns, there's no one beside her, there's no body filling her bed. Still, Eve reaches out her hand as if she'll touch something other than the empty space. She clutches the bedsheets hard between her fingers. She hasn't cried since Bill's funeral, but this - this stings behind her eyes. It's the step from  _ hate  _ to  _ love,  _ a line so easily crossed, that  _ hurts  _ like this.

She'd never ached for Niko. She never wanted to kill for him. Perhaps it's  _ emotion  _ that she's struggling with. Eve has never been good at feeling. Before Villanelle, had she felt anything other than  _ boredom? _

There's a sound like a tree branch hitting the window. Tap, tap, tap.

"You're waiting for me, aren't you?" Villanelle asks.

Eve scrubs her face furiously with the palms of her hands, but the soft, imaginary voice echoes in her ears. It's a perfect illusion. Tap, tap, tap. 

"Fuck it." Eve mumbles to herself. Lying in the dark alone is a dangerous game.

When she stands from the bed, she has to steady herself by pressing her hand against the wall, as her vision goes blurry for just a second. She drops the recording onto the bed, and it bounces. Eve half expects it to start playing, and she braces herself for the sound of Villanelle's voice filling the room, but it doesn't.

On her way past the kitchen, Eve stares resolutely at the kitchen knives, lined neatly up. They look so normal, just a stack of knives that every other person in London has, that she almost laughs out loud. She grabs one quickly.

The hilt between her fingers feels like power. 

When she looks back at the dark, empty room, the shadows make shapes. This is the loneliest place she's ever lived in. She wants to destroy it. The door slams shut behind her when she leaves.

In the dark of the night, the air is cold. The wind whips against Eve's face, and she looks up at the stars, blinking at the moon. 

"Villanelle." She says, outloud, just to hear the name come from her lips. Her breath disappears into the night sky. She pulls her coat tighter around her, a chill passing over her that isn't from the cold. "Oksana."

Eve swears she can feel hot breath behind her ear, making the skin tingle. But there's no one there when she turns around quickly, the knife held in front of her. There's nobody waiting in the shadows.

_ Please,  _ she thinks.

"Hello?" Eve asks, her voice hard, but the thought of Villanelle melts her. She's always pretending. "Is anyone there?"

There isn't _ ,  _ she thinks, hopelessly. There's nothing here but the cold air.

Then a figure passes in front of her. Just a shadow in the dark night. Eve steps forward, and she can't help it - a smile passes over her face, small and fleeting and quickly hidden by the darkness. 

"Villanelle?" Eve asks.

The figure moves in front of her again - but Eve is a step ahead of it. She reaches out quickly, and something  _ rips,  _ and then the person is pressed against Eve's house with the knife against their throat. 

"Eve," Villanelle says, grinning. Her voice is even better than it is through a recording, or in Eve's imagination and memory. Warm, seductive,  _ sharp  _ as the blade of the knife _. _ Villanelle's voice has always made her stomach flutter. "You caught me."

Eve blinks. Villanelle is in nothing but pyjamas, her hair loose and wavy around her shoulders. Eve has ripped a shoulder of her shirt - so now, the skin of her neck and shoulder blade are exposed, pale in the light coming from Eve's windows. Villanelle must be cold, but if she is she won't show it. 

"What are you doing here?" Eve feels a burst of pride when her voice doesn't shake.

Villanelle raises an eyebrow. Eve presses the blade sharper against the skin of her neck, hard enough that blood is starting to trickle lightly down her skin and the blade, staining Eve's fingers. Villanelle doesn't wince. She seems to lean into the knife, pressing it harder against herself.

"What do you think?"

"I think you should go." 

Eve's words are half hearted even to her own ears. This push, pull they have is exhausting, surely, a cat and mouse chase that neither wants to play anymore. Not after Eve had kissed Villanelle and forfeited the entire game. There's no competition anymore.

"Do you? Really?" Villanelle's smile reaches her eyes, a teasing glint in her gaze. Eve forgot how infuriating she was. But now, fondness bubbles in her throat, rather than irritation. "Are you going to hurt me, Eve?"

Is she? Eve is well aware of how strong Villanelle is. But Villanelle isn't resisting her now. She's leaning casually against the wall, her head tilted, and her cat-like eyes nothing but amused.

"Maybe. I haven't decided yet."

"Take your time." Villanelle drawls. "I've got all night." 

Eve stares. It's all she can do. The harsh curve of her jaw is captivating. Eve's gaze lingers on the pretty, gentle curve of Villanelle's mouth, and she remembers its taste. The light dancing in her eyes is playful and teasing. No dreams could ever match the beautiful, painful reality of Villanelle. 

Eve takes one step backwards, and the knife leaves Villanelle's neck.

"Would you like to come in and have a cup of tea?" Eve asks, before she can regret it.

Villanelle blinks. She looks at Eve in shock for a moment, and Eve savours it. She always savours the moments she manages to catch Villanelle off guard, because those are the only times she sees through Villanelle's confident facade.

"Really?" Villanelle asks.

Eve nods.

Then Villanelle bursts out laughing.

"Of course." She says happily. 

"Okay." Eve says gently. and puts the knife in her pocket. "Okay."

How strange it is, to walk beside Villanelle again, and to cross over the threshold with her. Eve shuffles out of her shoes when they walk through the door, and Villanelle looks down at Eve's feet and smiles. Perhaps that simple, domestic movement makes Villanelle happy. It feels like they're both coming home.

"Go first." Villanelle murmurs, so Eve does.

The place looks different through Villanelle's eyes. When Eve turns on the lights, everything is brand new - it's as if the dull walls are painted in colour. Villanelle prowls the rooms, though she was only there earlier that day to leave the bear. 

Villanelle runs her fingertips slowly along the walls. Eve knows already that once Villanelle has left, she'll also trace her hands along the same spots, feeling the remnants of Villanelle's touch.

"Boring." Villanelle laughs. "I can't believe you live here."

Eve narrows her eyebrows at the comment. But she's softening, melting, because Villanelle is in her space. Villanelle is with her, in the dark hours that used to be spent alone. 

Eve grabs a blanket from near the bed and steps towards Villanelle.

"Stay still." Eve says.

She wraps the blanket around Villanelle. For a moment, Eve freezes with her hands resting on Villanelle's shoulders. She's caught in the light in Villanelle's eyes. It's the first time she's looked at Villanelle,  _ properly,  _ since Villanelle shot her. In the harsh, bright lights, she's the loveliest thing Eve will ever see.

"Aren't you cold?" Eve murmurs. Her eyes fall on the exposed skin of Villanelle's neck, her shoulders. Her mouth goes dry.

Villanelle smiles.

"Do I look cute?" She says, tilting her head, and it breaks the spell. 

Eve pushes her down into a seat at the kitchen table by her shoulders. 

"Stay here."

Villanelle salutes her.

"Yes, captain."

Eve tries to keep her face nonchalant. But when she's in the kitchen, the giddiness rises inside of her, and she leans over the sink. Her reflection in the window doesn't look like her - it looks like someone else, someone...  _ happy.  _ Light in a way she hadn't been with Niko. It makes her feel uneasy, the casual joy she feels.

Because now... now she can turn her back to Villanelle easily. Now, there is no danger (there is no danger, at least, that isn't welcome).

"You invited me in." Villanelle calls. Her voice is smug.

Eve switches on the kettle.

"I suppose I did."

"Like a vampire." Villanelle says. "I'd be a good vampire, wouldn't I, Eve?"

There's something sharp and pale about Villanelle - she's timeless. It's as if she's centuries old, and brand new, all at once.

"Yes."

"You'd let me bite you, wouldn't you?"

Eve hesitates.

"Probably." She says, eventually, and Villanelle's cackle is almost worth the admission.

"That's what I thought."

The kettle rumbles. Eve stares at it, nervously playing with her fingers. She feels like she's on a first date. Perhaps she  _ is.  _ Perhaps it's the only first date that matters.

"What are you doing?" An amused voice drawls in her ears.

Eve jumps in surprise. Warm, strong arms are wrapped around her back. Villanelle's chin rests on Eve's shoulder. It feels ordinary. Villanelle feels like her girlfriend, her  _ wife,  _ even, comforting her in the middle of the night when she can't sleep. The thought makes a lump lodge in her throat. She gulps.

"I'm making tea. I told you already."

"Okay." Villanelle says happily, and Eve wouldn't admit it, but this playfulness has always been Eve's favourite side of Villanelle.

"Go and sit down, would you?" Eve asks, a flush crawling up her neck.

Villanelle presses a light kiss to the inside of Eve's neck.

"I'm excited." Villanelle says, and then leaves the kitchen.

Eve's neck burns - she touches it, almost in a trance, and then shakes her head roughly and turns back to her task. Ridiculous, how she keeps having to push down the childish glee building inside of her. It's tiring, pretending as if Villanelle's company doesn't make her feel alive.

She carries the mug back to the kitchen. Her hands are shaking, but Eve ignores it, though she knows Villanelle will see. She sees everything.

It makes a  _ thump  _ as it lands on the table. Eve slips quietly into the seat opposite Villanelle and lets out a long sigh.

"You're different." Villanelle says.

Eve looks at her wearily. Villanelle gives her a small smile, then takes a sip of tea.

"It's a good different." Villanelle continues. "Like on the bus."

Eve's heart jumps. Villanelle pulls the blanket tighter around herself, and gives Eve a coy, sly look. She looks like she belongs in a home, with Eve. Soft, wavy hair, falling around her shoulders and sticking up in odd places. Small shadows under her eyes. 

It takes everything inside of Eve not to throw herself across the table and take Villanelle tightly in her arms.

"Have you stopped pretending, now, Eve?"

The question is heavy. Eve still doesn't know - even now, a part of clings to the simple, boring life she used to have.

"Being here with you," Eve says, her voice raw, "It feels normal."

_ Normal stuff,  _ Villanelle had said she wanted. Nights in front of the TV and long phone calls and oh, the kisses, in the morning and before work and just before sleep and whenever they felt like it. 

Villanelle sips more tea.

"Sorry I shot you." She says.

Eve laughs.

"Sorry I didn't run away with you."

_ Sorry  I lied. You could love me. I love you. _

"I wish I had." Eve whispers.

A flash of vulnerability passes over Villanelle's face, fresh and unfamiliar on her. Eve blinks and it's gone. She wonders, suddenly, how much she'd hurt Villanelle since they met, and the thought makes a wave of compassion wash over her.

"Me too." Villanelle says, slowly, as if trying to keep her composure.

There's an elegance to her. Her legs are crossed, her hands are wrapped delicately around the mug, her chin is held high. Eve has the sudden longing to see her come undone. Hadn't Villanelle always been pretending, too? It's so easy to get wrapped in the brilliant illusion of her and forget she feels, too. Eve can see it in her eyes that she feels.

"I would've taken care of you." Villanelle says.

Eve knows that. God, she knows that. The thought has tortured her ever since Rome.

"What now?" Villanelle says.

"Just drink your tea."

"Eve," Villanelle says, "I don't want the damn tea."

Eve can count the number of times she's smiled at Villanelle on one hand. But now, her grin fills her whole face. She's suddenly reminded of the time Villanelle ate shepherd's pie.  _ I just want to have dinner with you.  _ How different this moment is. And how much the same.

When Eve stands up, it feels like an action she can't take back. She takes the mug from Villanelle's hands and places it on the table. Then she climbs into Villanelle's lap, and Villanelle's smile when she pulls Eve in by her waist is the sunshine.

"Have you thought about me, Eve?"

Eve puts a hand on Villanelle's cheek.

"I never stopped." She says.

She kisses Villanelle. This time, she's leaning down. This time, Villanelle is expecting it, and surges up into her, her hands flying into Eve's hair, her kiss hard and desperate and warm. 

Eve makes a noise in her throat when Villanelle tugs her hair. It makes Villanelle smile smugly against her mouth.

"I thought about you too." Villanelle says, pulling away. Her wet lips are glorious. "All the time."

"Shut up." Eve says roughly.

She kisses the base of Villanelle's throat, and the line of her jaw, and a sweet sigh escapes her. Eve feels like everything inside of her is unravelling. Every knot is unwinding. Her stomach flutters.

"Eve," Villanelle "Eve, I love you."

Eve kisses the words out of her mouth. She's glad she can close her eyes, like this. She's glad Villanelle won't be able to see every emotion rising in her throat. She believed it before, in Rome, however much she denied it. And God, she believes it now. 

She pulls back, and presses her head to Villanelle's chest, and breathes her in.

"Eve, do you love me?"

Eve doesn't answer. She can smell the remnants of a strong perfume on Villanelle's skin, but mostly, she smells of the cold and home. Of all the things Eve loves. 

"Do you?"

Villanelle lifts her head by her chin.and looks into Eve's eyes. Eve is flushed, breathing heavily, her eyes unfocused.

"Look at you." Villanelle smiles.

She stands, slowly, placing Eve gently on her feet. Then she holds out her hand, and Eve stares at it.

"Well?" 

The dark walls, the old floorboards, her empty bed, and the night sky. They don't matter to Eve anymore. She would give all of it up,  _ all  _ of it, for this one second, where Villanelle is looking at her with an uncharacteristic uncertainty, her hand outstretched.

Eve takes it.

Villanelle pulls her to the bed. In another world, this would be ordinary - Villanelle's kissed mouth, her wide grin, the anticipation building in their stomachs. They're far from normal, but this is something like ordinary, something like home.

Villanelle lies down, and pulls Eve on top of her.

"Hello." Villanelle laughs.

"Hi." Eve murmurs.

She takes a moment to trace Villanelle's face with her fingers, to memorise every single divine feature. She traces Villanelle's cheeks, the slope of her nose, even gently brushes her eyelids with her fingertips.

"You can touch me, Eve." Villanelle breathes. 

Eve runs her hand along Villanelle's throat, down her neckline. She pulls Villanelle's t-shirt over her head - and Villanelle's chest is bare. Eve runs her fingers over the curve of Villanelle's breasts, and then her nipples, and they harden under her fingers.

She likes Villanelle's stomach, and how it feels under her hands. The stomach seems like such an intimate place to touch, and Eve presses her palms against it for a moment, feeling every one of Villanelle's breaths. 

Villanelle's thighs, when Eve pulls away her pyjama bottoms, are smooth and firm. She runs her fingers along Villanelle's legs, from her ankles to the top of her thighs.

The power balance has switched. Villanelle is bare beneath her, and Eve is fully clothed. Eve hesitates, her cheeks flushed, Villanelle's eyes staring up at her. She's always loved Villanelle's eyes the most. 

"Don't betray me, now." Villanelle says. and her voice is almost desperate. 

"No, no, Villanelle, darling, no," Eve breathes, "Not again."

It's the most vulnerable Villanelle has ever been, and it's precious to Eve. She wants to touch to Villanelle forever - she wants to commit her to memory. Killing her is far from Eve's mind.. She kisses the space between her breasts..

"I want to see you." Villanelle says.

Eve hesitates. She rolls off Villanelle, and lies beside her, instead, staring at the ceiling. How easily Villanelle had been vulnerable. Eve has struggled for so long to do the same. Even now, her heart thumping with joy and giddiness... she can't.

"You're still scared, aren't you?" Villanelle says. She takes Eve's hands, intertwining their fingers. "Things are different now, you know. I'm not going to hurt you unless you want me to."

Eve knows. It's shifted, this tension between them, from hot and hard, to warm and steady. Sure, the anger still curls under their skin, but it's softened by the love, by the way they touch. It's a harsh, difficult love, but Eve wants it more than anything.

"I'll show you, just don't-" Eve sighs. "Don't touch me yet. I still don't know how to trust you."

"Tease." Villanelle says.

Eve rolls her eyes. She undresses slowly, though. When she pulls off her shirt, Villanelle's sharp intake of breath is a surprise. 

When she's bare, and the cold is casting goosebumps across her skin, Villanelle leans her chin on her hand to look at Eve. Her eyes run down Eve's body, her smile growing.

"Well, hello." Villanelle drawls.

Eve flushes. She doesn't feel self conscious - she feels _admired._ She feels young, and attractive. Niko had never made her feel like this. It's liberating to know Villanelle would do anything to her, and that she can do the same for Villanelle.

"Are you done?" Eve grumbles, and Villanelle's smirk grows.

"Don't be so nervous, Eve."

Villanelle pulls the covers over them both. When they look at each other, it's like going back into the past, looking at each other on Villanelle's bed, except this time, Eve won't stab her. This time, Eve lets Villanelle take her into her arms and kiss her.

The feeling of Villanelle's skin against her own is more than she could've imagined. Eve pushes as close as possible against her, her arms wrapping tightly around Villanelle's back.

"Eager, are you?" Villanelle asks, but her breathing is laboured. "God, Eve, I knew you were sexy, but this is-"

"I know." Eve says, and sucks at Villanelle's throat, pushing her teeth in slightly.

Villanelle hisses. Eve smiles, and does it again.

"I wish I could touch you." Villanelle sighs.

Eve kisses her frown away. She runs her hands up and down Villanelle's back, her tongue warm in Villanelle's mouth.  _ Finally,  _ finally, Villanelle moans low in her throat. The sound of her losing control is enough to make warmth pool in her stomach, and Eve presses her thighs together.

"Villanelle." She breathes. If this were any other circumstance, she'd have her head between Villanelle's thighs, by now. Or Villanelle’s between hers. She doesn’t mind either. 

"Fuck you."

Eve laughs.

"I'm making you wet, aren't I?" Eve says, and Villanelle shudders. 

“I’m going to kill you.” 

“Oh, you would’ve done it by now.”

Villanelle bites her lip. 

“Eve,” She says, “Can I touch myself?”

Eve breathes in sharply. The thought of Villanelle getting off, next to her, in her bed... makes a shiver passes over her spine. But it’s something Eve thinks she’s ready for. A step forward that doesn’t require so much vulnerability.

“Yes.”

Villanelle sighs gratefully. She wastes no time touching herself anywhere else - her hand goes straight between her legs, pressing against the wetness there. Eve watches, feeling hot and flustered.

Her other hand clutches her breast. Villanelle presses against her hand, beginning to rub slow, hard circles against her clit. Even in this she’s elegant. Even the pink flush on her cheeks is refined.

“How many times have you fucked yourself thinking of me?” Eve asks. 

Villanelle breathes harshly, her hand moving faster. Her breathing, and the sound of her touching herself, are the only sounds in the room - and Eve  _ savours  _ it. She squeezes her thighs together, her lips parting at the sight of Villanelle’s eyes slipping shut.

“Does it feel good?”

Villanelle smirks.

“Stupid question, Eve.” Villanelle says, but her breath hitches.

“Tell me what turns you on.”

“You.” Villanelle says easily. “Everything you do. God, I need to fuck you so bad. I want to ruin you.”

Eve shivers. Villanelle shifts to lie on her back, places her finger on her mouth for a moment, then pushes a finger inside of herself.

“How does it feel?” Eve asks, her breathing uneven.

“Not enough.” Villanelle hisses. 

She puts another finger inside, and fucks herself like that, creating a rough pace. 

“You’d like me to do this to you, wouldn’t you, Eve?”

Eve groans. She can’t help but squeeze one of her own breasts, which makes Villanelle smirk.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” She says, her tongue running across her bottom lip. “Cum with me.”

Eve feels like she’s on fire. When she puts her hand between her legs, she’s so wet - her fingers slide through the slickness easy, and when she touches her clit, she twitches. 

It’s never felt like this. Hot, and frantic, and god, so  _ good.  _ When she rubs herself, far too gone to go slowly, and matches Villanelle’s rough pace, she feels the pleasure building inside of her in a way it hasn’t before. 

Eve thinks of the future. Of Villanelle, taking her, devouring her, thrusting into her. It’s hopeful, she thinks, they’re almost like a normal couple. 

Her wrist aches, but Villanelle smiles, her eyes watching Eve’s hand closely, and that’s enough for her to keep going. Eve bucks into her hand.

“Not yet.” Villanelle hisses, filling herself with another finger.

Her demanding tone makes Eve moan. She feels like she’ll fall apart soon, if she doesn’t orgasm. It’s magical, the moment Villanelle’s composure falls, as she fucks herself deeper.

“Eve.” She moans, and Eve keeps her eyes open, because she doesn’t want to miss a second. “Fuck, Eve, it feels so good.  _ Eve.  _ Cum with me.”

It consumes her, when Villanelle orgasms - when the building pleasure is released. When they breathe harshly together, their hands moving frantically, it’s as if they’re becoming one. For a moment, Villanelle is the one touching her, and she’s the one with her fingers inside Villanelle. Villanelle shudders, her face contorting, and it’s glorious. 

Eve doesn’t realise she’s repeatedly whispering Villanelle’s name until Villanelle pulls Eve against her. Eve moves her hand quickly, safe in the smell and touch of Villanelle, and the warmth spills out of her.

She was never loud with Niko. Now, she speaks incoherently, and moans, and Villanelle grins at all of it.

When it’s over, Villanelle strokes Eve’s hair, her hand gentle. Eve closes her eyes, and smiles against Villanelle’s chest.

“Next time, can I touch you?” Villanelle asks quietly. Eve can hear the happiness in her voice, and it means everything. 

“I’ll think about it.”

“Fucking hell.” Villanelle grumbles, and Eve laughs.

“Can you stay here?” Eve whispers. “Just for tonight.”

“I have to leave you soon.” Villanelle brushes the hair away from Eve’s forehead. “But I will stay tonight.”

Villanelle tightens her embrace. 

“Eve.” She murmurs. “We’ll go away together eventually, won’t we?”

Eve doesn’t even hesitate, now.

“Yes.”

“You won’t leave me again, will you?”

“No.”

“Promise me.” 

“I promise.” Eve whispers. She wraps her arms around Villanelle’s back, and they stay like that 

It’s so easy for Eve’s mind to wander away in the warmth and comfort. She’s unfamiliar with this - being with a woman, touching a woman’s skin, being in love with a woman. But she doesn’t want anything else. Only this. Only Villanelle’s chest rising and falling, and her frantic heartbeat - the only proof she’s real.

“Eve. Did you dream about me here?”

Eve blinks sleepily.

_ “ _ I've been dreaming about you since before we met.” Eve says. “I’ll always dream about you. About your eyes, and your voice, and your body.  _ You.”  _

“Good.” Villanelle sighs. 

Eve falls asleep like that, the two of them clutching each other, stained with love and sweat. Eve dreams of waking with Villanelle beside her. 

When she wakes, the sun is starting to rise. Villanelle is gone, but the room is full of her. 

Eve rubs her eyes. She can’t help but smile, as the sunshine falls upon the bed, and she stretches and pulls on her dressing goen. She feels like someone new today. If she looked in the mirror, would she recognise who she was?

There’s a note on Villanelle’s pillow.

_ Dream of me, baby xx _

Eve smiles and puts the note in her dressing gown pocket.

Then Eve traces the spaces on the walls where Villanelle touched, like she knew she would, and lies in the space Villanelle had lain in.

“I love you, too.” Eve tells the pillows, and the blankets, that still smell a little like Villanelle. “I love you.”   
  


**Author's Note:**

> I love them
> 
> my tumblr is @pclastri <3


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